


A Perfect Deal

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kink meme. Douglas always treats Martin to a delightful meal, or to room service or take-out on a positively decadent level, whenever they're done having sex. One night, Martin asks why, and he is taken aback by Douglas' answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Deal

Martin had never thought to question it before. He was sprawled out on Douglas' bed, still breathing heavily and still waiting for his heart to stop speeding in his chest. He could hear Douglas in the kitchen, and he wanted to go and watch him, because watching Douglas cook was most certainly one of the best pleasures in life, but he was still shaking a little and he couldn't bring himself to move, not yet. 

But this was a habit. Whenever they had sex - and they had sex rather a  _lot_ , and Martin was often surprised by how ready Douglas always  _was_  to pull Martin into bed with him - he was a good deal older than Martin, after all, though in the trousers department he seemed to have no issues at all - Douglas always, without fail, served Martin a meal.

He would leave Martin to recover from his usually utterly  _mindblowing_  orgasm( **s** , sometimes), and he would begin to cook. If they were on a job, it would be something else - an obscenely expensive take-out, usually, but occasionally it would be room service, if the hotel they were in was nice enough. That was rare, because Douglas' standards were evidently high, but all the same, why?

Martin couldn't say he'd had many bed partners, men or women, but post-coital dinners and snacks and decadent foods had never been habit. In fact, usually, it had been sleep, although sex had never had a soporific on Martin and he'd often lie awake, too cautious to move, beside whoever he'd just finished with.

"Here." Douglas said in a light, contented tone as he came back into the bedroom. He wore pyjamas, silken to the touch, and they fit him well - he looked as good in blue pyjamas with silver lines as he did in his uniform. "Scallops and bacon with potatoes fried in duck--fat."

"Oh my  _God_." Martin said, staring at bowl with an open mouth. "That looks-"

"Yes, I know." Douglas replied smugly, and he held the bowl out for him to take. Martin was eager in taking it and the fork, and the noises he let out were positively orgasmic as he began to eat. Douglas' cooking was far better than any take-out or expensive meal Martin had ever partaken of, and this meal particularly was positively gorgeous.

"Incredible." Douglas commented fondly, eating from his own bowl slowly as he watched Martin. "You make not a  _sound_ when I have you, with cock, fingers or mouth, and yet something so simple as a piece of bacon and a chip reduces you to moans."

Douglas' meals were usually simple. Part of it was to do with speed, but Martin suspected most of it was merely absolute skill - Douglas was a patient man when it suited him, but when it didn't he could craft a four course meal in half an hour. 

"Maybe your food is better than your sex." Martin said, and Douglas laughed: he knew it to be untrue as much as Martin did. Martin went non-verbal then, if not quiet, until he'd finished the meal, and then he carefully set the bowl in his lap, over the sheet. "Why do you do this?" He asked, tone soft. 

"Why do I do what? Have sex with younger, attractive captains? Well-"

"No, no, the food." Martin interrupted, though his cheeks tinged pink for the compliment, and he could not help but shift just a little where he sat. "You always cook. Or buy food. Why do you do that?" 

Douglas blinked, seeming somewhat surprised by the question, and he set his own fork into his bowl. "Why, Martin, I should think it was obvious."

Martin shook his head, and Douglas grinned. The same, smug grin Martin had become so used to - and even fond of, some days. 

"Well, you and I have sex. You treat me to a  _decadent_  and  _delicious_  treat - your body, your cock, the sweet little gasps you make in place of actual whimpers," Martin did whimper now, wriggling a good deal more. Between his legs there was a touch of interest, but his recovery time wasn't good enough for it to be anything more than a twitch. "Why, I should think it's only fair I return the favour and offer you a treat in return."

"Oh." Martin mumbled, swallowing and looking down at his bowl, flushed to his very ears. "Thank you then." He said, because he could think of nothing better to stay, and he thought he would begin to stammer if he tried.

"You're very welcome. Seconds?" Martin's lips twitched, and he tentatively looked up and met Douglas' eyes. 

"I'll give you seconds if you give me some." Douglas laughed, and he leaned, catching Martin in a quick kiss. 

"A perfect deal then. I'll be right back."


End file.
